Stolen Scenes
by Magi Silverwolf
Summary: This is a collection of responses to various challenges. Unlike other responses, they didn't end up finishing a story, not even a vignette. They belong in a story world from another of my works. Some also aren't long enough to justify their own stories. Most are going to be from my primary fandom, Harry Potter, but there might be other fandoms at some point.
1. Tropes of Legend Bingo

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

 **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers.

Author's Note(s):

Summary ( _Title_ ):

 **Song Recommendation(s):** "Title" by Artist

Tagging Information:

 **Fandom Tag(s):**

 **Relationship Tag(s):**

 **Character Tag(s):**

 **Additional Tag(s):**

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Tropes of Legend Bingo

Card 02 Fills

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 _Love Triangle_ (Column 2; Row 4) [517 words]

Excerpt from _The Schrodinger Effect_ , Chapter 6 ( _Conflicted_ ) [Harry Potter]

Things since the ball had been tensed in ways that Harry couldn't really understand. Finding Neville and Luna whispering together had become more common than it ever had, and Harry was happy for them—really, truly, and without reservation. The memory of them in each other's arms on the dance floor was burned into his memory: their mutual beauty glowing in the abundant candlelight was only matched by the happiness apparent on their faces as they looked into each other's eyes. Neither had said anything about getting together to Harry, but maybe they were trying to spare him discomfort in the aftermath of Ginny and his breakup. That would be just like them—putting his comfort before their growing closeness—but it really wasn't needed. He was happy for them.

He refused to say anything about the growing ache he experienced whenever he thought of them finally recognizing that he was just in their way. He didn't want to lose them, like it seemed that he had Ron and Hermione when he refused to leave with the Weasleys after the row at the ball. Harry recognized that Neville and Luna probably knew him better after these past three months than Ron and Hermione had in their years of friendship, and he knew that kind of friendship was even harder to find than the pseudo-family he had had as a member of the Golden Trio. They make an excellent pair—really one of those couples like the ones from the romance novels he wasn't supposed to know that Aunt Petunia read. Harry didn't want to break that up—because he was happy for them, really and truly. At the same time, it hurt to see them together and know that the time was coming that he would be on the outside again, not a part of their trio any more.

It was the ache that made Harry noticed for the first time that the three of them spent a lot of time together even with their individual projects. Ginny used to pull him away from everyone back when they were first dating, saying that they needed to get closer without anyone else getting in the middle. Taking the same logic, he tried to give them space, without being obvious about his reasons. He couldn't bring himself to go so far as returning to Grimmuald Place, but he did try to sleep in the room that Augusta had given him rather than the one they had shared for the last few months. On the third morning, he awoke to find that they had joined him some time during the night; Luna was tucked under his chin with his arms curled tightly around her while Neville was plastered against his back with _his_ arms around both of them. It was unfairly confusing. They should have been reveling in their time alone, especially as a new couple, and yet the more he tried to pull away, to give them the space he understood new couples needed, the more often he found himself in the company of one or both of them.

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 _Knight Templar_ (Column 2; Row 5) [360 words]

Excerpt from _Legacies of Blood_ , Chapter 4 ( _Monsters_ ) [Harry Potter/Sanctuary/Sherlock]

Albus Dumbledore was understandably frustrated. Once more, Harry Potter had failed to return to his home with his aunt. It was annoying that this was so frequent a problem. It was rare that an entire month went by without the boy needing to be fetched. The number of times that various dark wizards had been responsible caused Albus no end of headache. None of them took the boy from within the blood wards, but Albus could not bear the thought of making him an active prisoner in his home. The muggle redirection ward could only do so much after all, especially given that it was already overburdened covering up the elder Dursleys' blatant neglect of their nephew.

Far more irritating were the times when it _wasn't_ dark wizards that made the boy not return home. Albus had been forced to put up the aforementioned redirection ward to stop nosy neighbors from interfering with how the Dursleys had to raise the Potter boy. Albus had given them free range to do what was necessary to keep the child humble and obedient. The boy did have a duty to fulfill, after all, and coddling him would not create the mindset necessary for what he would someday need to do. Too many people let sentiment get in the way of what needed to be done. Thank Merlin that Vernon and Petunia were not such fools.

Unfortunately, something seemed to be preventing the locator charms from functioning efficiently this time. They've managed to narrow the area to the Northumberland Heath area of Erith, but that was still a large area to cover for the small number of people he could call upon to retrieve the boy discreetly and without question. Minerva was getting particularly wistful about meeting Harry as the time for him to come to Hogwarts drew closer. Without knowing the condition they were going to find the boy in, he couldn't as the witch to help him without her insistence of keeping him, especially since this appeared to be one of the voluntary non-returns instead of kidnapping.

When will people realize that it would always be better to just listen to him?

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 _Even Evil has Standards_ (Column 2; Row 1) [524 words]

 _Legacies of Blood_ , Post-Chapter 4 [Harry Potter/Sanctuary/Sherlock]

Nikola had a type. He wasn't exactly proud of this fact, but he refused to lie about something that was ultimately so unimportant. Even before he had met his Dove, he knew what he liked in a lover. After his time with _her_ , that ideal had shifted some, more of solidified, making Helen no longer a good fit. He still loved to rile her with the idea of it—especially if James, or better still _Druitt,_ were about to watch as their reactions were even better than Helen's. The point was that the young woman crossing the room with artfully swishing hips fit every trait in that type.

Eurus Holmes was beautiful and brilliant—and far closer than either of her brothers to their abnormal heritage, making her deadly as well. She kept her blue-green eyes locked on his, mesmerizing like those of a snake. The scent of feminine desire grew cloyingly thick as the escaped sociopath stalked closer. It did little to overpower the tang of the tourists' spilt blood, an ever-present reminder that Eurus did _not_ share his qualms about killing civilians.

"You smell even better than my Sherlock," she whispered, reaching for him with still-dripping fingers. Nikola refused to give into the prickling instincts that screamed that he should back away from the obvious threat. One hand sank into his hair, a slick pinky sliding against his nape in a soothing manner that belied the other hand's claws pressing into the fabric cover his side. When Eurus used the grip to guide him down, he gave into it easily. He barely felt the bed beneath them as something within him relaxed into sluggish softness. "Such a beautiful picture you make—I wonder how lovely your cries will be when I bleed you. In the interest of fairness, I should warn you that you've stiff competition there. My Sherlock screamed so prettily before they stole him from me."

She crawled over him then, her knees settling on either side of his hips. Her weight settled on his groin even as she pressed their chests together. He twitched against lassitude as her scent washed over him. It was so close to _hers_ that he wanted to press upwards and take everything she was offering—it had been _so long_ and he _wanted_ , his blood already beginning to hum-but at the same time, it was _wrong_ , just slightly off. In his confusion, Nikola let her tip his head backwards but couldn't bring himself to reach for her in any way. She traced the line of his exposed neck with her nose before licking at the dip formed by his clavicle. He shivered when she gave a frustrated growl and then again when she abruptly pulled away.

"Pity," Eurus muttered. Still fighting free of the instinctive submission, Nikola raised an eyebrow questioningly at her. She flashed him a bit of fang in return. "As tempting as you are, pet, I won't take another's property—especially when it would be me taking instead you offering. I'm not a monster."

"You just killed a man because you had a _whim_ , Eurus."

"Even I have standards, dear."

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 _Obfuscating Stupidity_ (Column 2; Row 2) [521 words]

Excerpt from _Of Thieves & Beggars_, Chapter 4 ( _Keepers of Alms_ ) [Harry Potter]

Severus had been prepared to hate the boy. The boy represented so much of Severus' lost hopes that it should have been easy. It was this boy that drew the Dark Lord's attention to Lily's doorstep, who bore the face of his tormentor from school, who somehow still had traces of Sirius' magic on him despite the man's utter betray of any vow of protection or guidance. Yet it wasn't easy to hate the child who shivered at loud noises and looked so much smaller than his yearmates, who watched his environment as if expecting an attack at any moment. Severus settled in to watch the boy in return, determined to make nothing but an informed decision on the boy's personality, regardless of Dumbledore's tales of guardian indulgence and precocious rambunctiousness.

By the time the first year Gryffindors and Slytherins had their first Potions class, Severus had thought himself prepared for the boy. The professors who had had the boy had all shared how blandly _normal_ Harry Potter was despite his hero status. They were quick to point out that all first years started on a similar level and Potter really wasn't all that different in that regard, but Severus had spent much of his life reading what people said without words. They had expected more than a normal first year and were now disappointed that their little savior was just like any other child. It would have disappointed him as well, if for different reasons. Lily had been exceptional and if her child was less than that, it would have been disgraceful to her memory and mostly likely because of Potter's _inferior_ genetics.

The child who entered his classroom that day was not an ordinary child. He was so far from an ordinary child, that Severus could not fathom how the other professors had missed it all week. The boy's pretense of ignorance was not exceptionally done. _Someone_ had conditioned the child against demonstrating knowledge, a lesson from which the swotty Gryffindor would benefit. Yet for each question he had flung at the boy there had been a flash of recognition that told Severus that the boy knew or _thought_ he knew the answer. Never once did the boy waver from his declaration of ignorance, and never once did he bit back.

The final straw was seeing the boy _almost_ correcting the Finnegan and Longbottom pair before they destroyed their cauldron. Potions was too dangerous to allow hesitancy to continue in anyone, and that hesitancy in _Lily's son_ was repugnant beyond belief. For once the persona he had built at Dumbledore's insistence would be useful. No one questioned when Severus had blamed the brat of deliberately letting Finnegan ruin their potion. When the boy's shoulders hunched instead of straightening defiantly, Severus knew he had his work cut out for him if he wanted to foster the bit of Lily's brilliance that hid in the brat, especially Dumbledore's stance on the matter.

Someone may want the boy to appear stupid, but by the Mother, Severus would not let him list into _actual_ stupidity. He had a debt to repay, after all.

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 _The Dragon_ (Column 2; Row 3) [542 words]

Except from _Mesmerizing Masks_ , Post-Treasures Arc of the _Austra_ Group [The Player Haven Adventures]

The scene before them was almost exactly as they expected. Aztanth elegantly sprawled across the throne dominating the dais at the other end of the room. The elf's silvery hair shone in the artificial light filling the room, glittering like a bug trap. His golden eyes sparked with humor as he spotted the group entering the room. Titania stood on the ground before the dais. The only thing that betrayed her readiness for combat was the already exposed claws extending from her hands. But it was Rajani that captured Misami's focus, more than the other forces in the room.

The kitsunemimi knelt beside Aztanth's throne, the picture of demure submission. Something within her screamed in denial and warning. Rajani hated to be told what to do—refusing to bend to anyone's will, even their Mother's. Rajani was an untamable force of nature, like the fire she wielded so effortlessly. Even knowing that Aztanth claimed to have power over the ex-priestess, Misami refused to believe what she was seeing now.

"See, my pet," Aztanth said as he sunk his long fingers into Rajani's black curls. He smiled at them. Misami wanted nothing more than to scratch the sanctimonious smirk off his face. "I told you our precious kitten would come—and look, she even brought _friends_! How kind of her, don't you think?"

"You're borrowing more trouble than you know, elf," Kintaro stated. The nekomimi sailor shook his head in mock disappointment. "Misami hates being called a kitten, and Shiki gets testy when she's upset. Best to just give up now. Save yourself the pain of their revenge."

"Are you really such a weak fool?" Titania snapped. The tigress looked closed to attacking without an order. "There is no way that the healer would let her mutt slip his leash enough to hurt anyone. He poses no threat."

"Oh, my fiery Dragon," Aztanth commented lightly. "You left the party at the inn too soon, I fear. You did not see what the Lycanian did to those who struck the healer after she revived them per her Oaths." His fingers clenched in Rajani's hair, making the woman release a moan. His gold eyes swept over Misami in a proprietary way. Misami fought the urge to be sick. "Besides, I suspect that the leash goes the other way. The kitten bends so well to her Mother's will, after all."

"Now _that's_ a kinky thought," Kintaro declared. Shiki growled a warning to the ex-captain. One of these days, her wolf-demon was going to give into his jealousy and maul the other nekomimi. Misami may even refuse to heal him…at least for a little while. The idiot seemed to be unable to turn off his flirting, even when someone had a knife to his throat—that particular instance got him stabbed, so one would _think_ he had learned better. Aztanth gave a dramatic yawn.

"I tire of this game," the elven puppetmaster declared. He waved his free hand imperiously. "Take care of them, Titania, and remember that we only need Misami revivable. Have fun."

"Oh, I _will_ , Master," Titania replied with a flash of fang. Faster than the eye could track, she sprung forward—and Misami's perception of events blurred into a flurry of claws and pain.


	2. Through Feline Eyes (Racing Fate)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

 **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers.

 **Author's Note(s):** This piece was written for the Houses Competition on the FFN Forums.

 **The Houses Competition Information** :  
 **House** : Hufflepuff  
 **Category** : Drabble  
 **Prompts** : Luna Lovegood; Racing/the race  
 **Word Count** : 624

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 _Through Feline Eyes_  
Teaser: Racing Fate  
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"You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming." ― Pablo Neruda

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Luna ran like she had never ran before, all trace of her carefully cultivated calm burned away by the flames of fear licking at her soul. If she had breath to spare, she would be cursing Hogwarts' deep-seated wards against apparation on the grounds. If they hadn't been etched into the very foundations of the ancient castle, they would have fallen when the bulk of the rest did and she wouldn't be forced to run like her life depended upon it. What kept her going even as her side began to burn was that it wasn't _her_ life that depended upon her reaching her destination.

It was _Harry's_.

Even after all their effort, the old _fool_ had managed to do it _again_. In the name of that trice-cursed prophecy that he put so much stock into, Albus Dumbledore had convinced Harry to turn himself over to Voldemort. _Willingly_. Neville and she had worked so hard to overwrite every word of every derision that the Dursleys had etched into Harry's personality, to undo as many of Dumbledore's manipulations that they could trace, and yet _clearly_ they had missed something. Harry had to know that he was far more than a shield or weapon—he should know better than to attempt to confront that megalomaniac by himself.

The tears were just from the wind whipping her face as she raced through the Forest. The chest pain was just from strained lungs. The weakness in her knees was just from the effort of running on uneven ground.

None of it was fear of losing him _again_.

Because that wouldn't happen.

Not again.

 _Never again_.

She had factored their probability of favorable outcomes in those dark months following Harry's guilt-ridden comment about changing the past. Trusting her initial calculation would have been beyond foolish, as drunk as she had been. She had never told her boys but it had been those calculations which had taken so long, not the creation of the ritual. She had wanted to be sure, had needed to be sure. It would have been worthless to sacrifice so much only to end up making things _worse_. Ever since returning and almost killing Harry, those numbers had become just as much an obsession as creating the ritual had been in that _before_.

Each pounding footstep bore a prayer for intercession. Harry had died for Britannia once already. There was no reason for him to do it again. She and Neville had already guaranteed that Harry was free from that pathetic shard. Her heart pounded at the reminder of how defenseless he would be against the Dark Lord's Killing Curse, unprotected by the very thing that had _impossibly_ saved him last time.

She couldn't lose him.

Not again.

 _Never again_.

The break in the tree line was sudden, leaving her stumbling into the back of a masked Death Eater. Unwilling to break inertia any more than she had already, Luna shoved her way past the ring of minions. She had to reach him—she couldn't be too late to make him understand. Time could be rewritten, but only so many times and the price was always steep. She had to save him; there would not be another chance. This wasn't where this was supposed to end.

She saw the curse in the same moment that Harry saw her. It hit in the same moment she threw herself forward, knowing that there was no way she could cover those last feet in time. He fell backwards like a marionette whose strings had been cut and she dove to catch him. Her heart beat a song of war even as her soul choked on a dirge.

She couldn't breathe evenly but it didn't matter.

It never would again.


	3. Lines of Ogham (Etching with Flames)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

 **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please exercise understanding of personal boundaries before and during reading.

 **Author's Note(s):** This piece is intended to be a part of a larger whole and will eventually go to that piece.

 **Competition/Challenge Block** :  
 **House** : Hufflepuff  
 **Category** : Short Story  
 **Prompts** : A Funeral; Hidden/Hiding  
 **Word Count** : 1437

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 _Lines of Ogham  
_ Etching with Flames  
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"Every vice has its excuse ready." – Publilius Syrus  
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Alice did not cry. She did not need to, not when Danu Herself was weeping for her. Instead, Alice burned with all the consuming flames being denied her sister-in-magic. Potters burned their dead. It had been their tradition for centuries, a final protection against necromancy and an echo of the clay their ascendants once specialized in working. This burial was a travesty, but she forced herself to watch with a still tongue and dry eyes. She would not pile disruption upon this blatant disrespect for her fallen siblings.

This was a battle already lost; she just needed to focus on the greater war. This could be fixed—later, after the watcher finished his vigil, she and Frank could set this right. Lily and James deserved their rites more than Britannia deserved a place to visit their martyrs, regardless of Dumbledore's stance on the matter. Let him think that he's won; it will soften him for the blow that counted.

The Mother had warned her months ago and she had thought that she was well prepared for what needed to be done. Alice had known he was a threat, that he didn't have their well-being as motivation.

Alice had _known_ and yet still he had managed to take Harry.

Her precious godson was missing—whisked away to a secret location by a man who had no right to take a child from his family. Harry had just lost his parents! He needed family, not strangers. She wanted to rage like the animal of her Hogwarts House, to rip Dumbledore apart for daring to take Lily's cub. Alice _knew_ that Dumbledore must have taken him to that ungrateful zoilist. Why else would he have pushed an injunction against the execution of the Potters' Wills, which Alice could attest forbade Harry being placed with _Petunia_?

The rain served to make the crowd thin quickly after Dumbledore finished his speech. Many would return to their celebrations. As if toasting an orphan was anywhere near appropriate behavior! It did not take long for the two of them to be the only ones at the gravesite. Frank had stayed at Thistlewood with Neville and Augusta, safely tucked under familial blood wards and Frank's additions. It was where Harry should have been, if not for the man she had once respected as a leader and teacher. Now she could barely keep her expression neutral as she approached him to demand her sister's son be returned.

"It is the greatest heartbreak of all when the old bury the young," Dumbledore said once she was close enough for a normal volume. He sounded so tired, as if he were as soul-weary as his words indicated. Once she would have believed it. But the Mother was whispering secrets, though none were the location of her godson.

"There are those who would say that epithet is reserved for parents who bury a child," she returned. Thankfully, she managed to make the words lack teeth. It was harder than she imagined it would be when she set out this morning. Without Lily on the other side of her magic, everything had been difficult. Before this, Alice had been the wood to Lily's flame, but they had burned together for years and now her magic ached for its twin. It was a coal threatening to explode at every breeze. She needed to fulfill this quest; then she could begin to grieve. She just needed to have Harry tucked into bed beside Neville, both boys safe where she could guard against all potential threats.

"Lily and James were like my children as are all my students. You know this, Alice."

"Perhaps it is a good thing that you never had children then." The words were harder than was wise, but the anger needed to be vented lest she explode with it. _How dare he claim kinship when he ignores their wishes!_ The thought held the echo of her Mother's hurt and rage. "You've done a fine job ignoring their every wish for after their deaths."

"Miss Diore—"

"Lady Longbottom," Alice corrected immediately. "If we are going to revert to titles, they should be the correct ones. Don't you agree, Mr. Dumbledore?"

"Lady Longbottom," Dumbledore agreed, looking like every syllable pained him. How it must gall the man to be reminded that no matter how many offices he held, he would never match the oldest families for rank. Good. She would make him pay for every inch of overstep he had made in this. "I apologize if you are upset about how I've handled their arrangements. I merely felt that you should not be bothered with such things while grieving for your friend."

"I should be busy settling my son," Alice snapped. Her magic crackled threateningly under her skin. Dumbledore took on an air of exhausted understanding. It may have soothed her nerves if he had not spoken.

"Of course, my dear girl, I understand completely. His name is Neville, wasn't it? Well, I won't take up any more of your time." The aged wizard turned as if to leave.

"I was talking about Harry," she said, regaining his attention. He turned back with a bemused expression but his sharp eyes were too measuring for the confusion to be real. "With Lily gone and Sirius in Azkaban, Harry becomes my responsibility."

"You don't have to worry about that, my dear," Dumbledore replied. He sounded as if he meant that to be reassuring instead of the condescending it felt to her. "Young Harry is perfectly safe."

"He belongs with family."

"He is with the only family he has left."

"You—oh, Mother of Mercy, you did," Alice blurted. Her heart pounded as fear added fuel to the flames of her rage. Promises from the First of All be damned—physical safety was not the only thing that mattered. "You sent him to _Petunia_. Despite everything that woman did to Lily over the years, including disowning her, you gave a defenseless magical child to her. How _could_ you?"

"It is for the best—"

"That is not your decision to make." Alice was done playing. This had gone far enough. She drew herself up to her full height, as little as there was, especially compared to Albus Dumbledore. She met his blue gaze with her own, deftly deflecting his subtle probe. "It's mine. Now tell me, Albus Dumbledore, where is my son?"

"My dear girl, he is not your son."

"My dear headmaster, you couldn't be _more_ wrong." She wanted to scream and claw at his smug face. How had Lily managed to control this swell of emotion? James was beyond blessed to have survived long enough for Lily to accept his courtship offer. "Lily Named me Harry's godmother before the Mother of All. Even if she hadn't, by exchanged blood and mutual vows, we were sisters in the eyes of Magic. As such, Harry's closest relative is not the muggle who tossed his mother away like useless trash; it is me. _Where is my son_?"

"He needs to be protected—"

"He will be protected—by familial wards that already recognize him. I'm going to give you one more chance to do this the easy way. _**Where is my son**_?"

"I cannot tell you that, my dear. I hope you understand."

"Better than you realize, Mr. Dumbledore," she said. Nothing could hide the steel in her tone, far sharper than even a badger's teeth. Apparently, Dumbledore had never paid attention to his history. Maybe he even believed what seemed to be the modern consensus on why Hufflepuffs stayed out of wars, stayed away from any battlefield of any type. Fools, the lot of them. It was time to remind them that nothing was more vicious than an enraged badger defending its sett and clan. "I want you to remember this moment. I want you to remember that you made a choice. You decided that you knew better than anyone else and be damned any other factors you may not have considered. I want you to remember this _exact moment_ , Albus Dumbledore, because I swear by my Mother that I will _destroy_ you. Do you understand?"

"There is no need for such hostility, Miss Diore."

"You are keeping a son from his mother, a _traumatized child_ from his _family_. I think you will find that there is plenty of need for hostility." Alice paused for just a single moment, still hoping that he would do the right thing. She took a deep breath as the silence steeled her resolve. She spoke four words before she twisted into the apparation. "And it's Lady Longbottom."

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An Ending  
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	4. When Magic Screamed (RAC fill)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

 **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please exercise understanding of personal boundaries before and while reading.

 **Author's Note(s):** This piece is intended to be a part of a larger whole and will eventually go to that piece.

 **Competition/Challenge Information** :  
 **House** : Gryffindor  
 **Claimed Pairing** : Lunar Heroes (Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter)  
 **Day 04:** You can take away your soulmate's pain.  
 **Prompt[s]** : n/a  
 **Word Count** : 523

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When Magic Screamed  
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"And I listened for a voice;–  
But my heart was all I heard;  
Not a screech-owl, not a loon,  
Not a tree-toad said a word."  
– Edna St. Vincent Millay, _The Blue-Flag in the Bog_  
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Magic screamed when Luna was born.

That is what Dione told her daughter when explaining the world and how they could interact with it. The birth of magi were always rougher than those of muggles, because of their innate power that immediately sought to connect to their soulmates, but usually Magic sung in celebration of what She had wrought for her special children. Magic's song was so beautiful that Dione was always moved to tears to hear it. Even as she explained it to her tiny moonbeam, Dione's eyes had shined with tears and her voice had trembled.

But the night Luna had been born, Magic had screamed as She wrought the soul-bond. She had been so full of defiant rage that Dione had been uncertain if She had not decided to destroy the world. For a single moment, while the newly born babe had lain still and silent, Dione had been certain that it wouldn't have mattered. Then Luna had cried out just as defiantly and Magic sang in _triumph_.

It was only months later that Dione had worked out the timing. It took years to get confirmation—as the Department of Mysteries held their secrets close and those concerning Voldemort even more so. Feeling along the soulbond of her only daughter, she began to understand a secret that made her realize how dangerous Voldemort must have truly been. Dione whispered the secret to her mate in the darkness of their shared bed—how Magic had given Harry Potter two soulmates and used that power to destroy the monster who have surely destroyed the world. Why else would Magic need a triumvirate bond to exist?

Xenophilius had merely given her a kiss on the forehead and pointed out how much Magic loved Love. With love, all things were possible. With love as the fulcrum, the entire world could be moved. Love was limitless and love cycled through three points was just as infinite as the universe.

Magic screamed again the day that Dione died, but Luna didn't think it was because a powerful witch had died. Magic was just echoing the screams Luna could hear within her soul as the explosion threw her into the collection of glassware her mother kept in the potions lab. Her mother had never hide that Luna had two soulmates, even as she had urged her daughter to not mention it to others. Luna had felt them both, each a distinctive feel of their own, but now she felt their magic surging into her broken body. She could distantly feel her father's magic attempting the same for her mother, but Luna knew it wouldn't work. Magic's screams had tears to them and Luna turned into magical embrace of her mates as Dione's magic lost the battle for the body that had contained it for so many years.

The physical pain faded as they healed her. They could do little for the emotional pain. All they could do was leave her with the knowledge that she was not alone. As she watched her father's stumbling through life after losing his soulmate, that was the greatest comfort of all.

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An End  
-= LP =-


	5. Messing Up (HC fill)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

 **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please exercise understanding of personal boundaries before and while reading.

 **Author's Note(s):** This piece is intended to be a part of a larger whole and will eventually go to that piece.

 **Competition/Challenge Block** :  
 **House** : Hufflepuff  
 **Category** : Drabble  
 **Prompts** : Remus Lupin & Lily Evans (Friendship)  
 **Word Count** : 460

-= LP =-  
 _Messing Up_  
-= LP =-  
"In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."  
– Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  
-= LP =-

"You are the most idiotic man I have ever met!" Lily declared as she slammed her transfiguration text on the Gryffindor table. She placed both hands flat on either side of it and leaned toward Sirius who had the good sense to lean away from her ire. James had an idea about what had the redhead so mad. "And that is really saying something, given our mutual proximity to that thick-headed git you call your best friend."

"You say the nicest things, Lily-flower," James said out of habit and without thinking. He immediately shrank when she turned her emerald glare on him.

"I will deal with you later, mister," she promised. James gulped at the threat. He paled under his tan when she gave him a sweet smile. That did not bode well. "Actually, I think I will deal with both of you together. I don't know what you did to my Remy that had him in _tears_ in the Library and believing that he's a horrible beast, but I do know what you are going to do about it. Both of you are going _fix it_. You are going to apologize. You are going to make whatever you did _right_ or so help me, I will _invent_ new ways to make you suffer. Both of you have been the main instigators of the feud with Severus. I will _not_ let you hurt my other best friend, not when you have claimed that he was yours! I am _done_! Am I understood?"

The two Marauders nodded quickly. Lily's teeth flashed at them as she grinned. It was eerily like Moony's grin in his wolf form, so much so that they both shuddered. They watched helplessly as the prefect almost skipped away to gather the quiet werewolf who had just stopped within the doors of the Great Hall as if uncertain of his welcome. Neither of them protested when she shuffled Remus to the spots farthest away from them without a backwards glance.

"I think she's torturing us," James muttered as it became obvious that they had a great view of Remus' face from where they were sitting. They could see how Lily pulled first a shy smile from their lupine mate and then a laugh. It was no more than what she had given Snape up until the disastrous end of last year, but somehow it was _worse_ because James had no one else to blame for this than himself. "She's positively evil. Right as hell, mind you. We messed up bad, and it could have ended up far worse if I hadn't realized that Snape was actually going to do it. But this—the flaunting their friendship at us—that's evil."

"Still in love with her?"

"More than ever."

-= LP =-  
An End  
-= LP =-


	6. Lines of Ogham (Elucidation of Lines)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

 **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please exercise understanding of personal boundaries before and during reading.

 **Author's Note (01):** Before I get comments/reviews about it, it is not actually _canon_ that James Potter was an Auror. That's not even apocrypha (stated by JK Rowling _somewhere other than the books_ ). It's _fanon_.

 **Author's Note (02):** This piece is intended to be a part of a larger whole and will eventually go to that piece.

 **Competition/Challenge Block** :  
 **House** : Hufflepuff  
 **Category** : Drabble  
 **Prompts** : Deluminator [object]  
 **Word Count** : 873 (Story); 889 (Story plus Epigraph)

-= LP =-  
 _The Lines of Ogham_  
The Elucidation of Lines  
-= LP =-  
"Dying is easy, young man. Living is harder."  
– General George Washington of _Hamilton_  
-= LP =-

Alastor refused to acknowledge the headmaster as he approached the spot where Alastor had been standing guard since arriving. The door beside him stayed shut and locked, his own protective ward layered over the default ones on all of St. Mungo's doors. Just below his hearing, the privacy ward buzzed, and it felt like a gnat begging to be swatted. Alastor held his stance, a comfortably loose one that looked relaxed but allowed for the greatest range of reactive measures should he need them.

In the wake of an uneven battle, his body ached. When he had gone the meeting place in response to Alice's distress call, he had been expecting to have his best aurors as back-up. The Longbottoms were the kind of Dream Duo that legends got made of, brought to the next level by the huge disparities in their individual fighting styles instead of it being a detraction. If Potter had gone into the Department, perhaps he and Black could have given them competition, but as it was the pair was the best team he had ever trained, and the closest to his own children he would probably ever have. He would willingly march into to Hell for them; he just wasn't expecting to do it without them at his flank. Facing all three Lestranges and their lackey while the Longbottoms could do little more than twitch on the ground made for a hard battle, despite the fact that the War had officially been over for a full fortnight.

Alastor's right hand tightened around the customized lighter—his own work, something he was planning to call a Deluminator if he decided to market them to the general public. He had found it in Alice's hand once he had subdued the Death Eaters, despite the fact that it should have been in the headmaster's possession. The warlock had borrowed it the day following the Potters' death—citing the need to move their son in secret; had that even been true? Alastor hated that he was questioning the motivations of a man he had fought beside, who had earned Alastor's respect as a duelist and leader. He _hated_ it, but he hadn't lived this long by denying what evidence declared.

"Alastor, my dear boy," Albus greeted. The man's blue eyes did not twinkle as they weighed him, a sign that Alastor knew meant that he was scheming. He knew how he must look, still in the battered and bloodied clothing he had worn during the fight. Alastor could feel the battle haze pulsing through him, enhancing the growing feeling of betrayal. "I came as soon as I heard. How are Mr. Longbottom and Miss Diore?"

"They're married, Albus," Alastor snapped, choosing to ignore that Albus tended to not use titles for any of the Order as a matter of course. To revert now, and to the _wrong one_ , spoke of a tension that Alastor had missed. Hunting down the loose Death Eaters failed to abate the shame Alastor felt curling in his gut. "They share a surname."

"Of course," Albus agreed amicably. It was a dodge. Albus was good at those, especially when he didn't wish to share some secret. "How are they?"

"Out of the fight," Alastor said as neutrally as possible. He only caught the flash of satisfaction in Albus' eyes because he was watching so closely. _'Oh, Alice, what made him target you?'_ It was obvious, now that he spared a thought for motivations. Albus wanted to move Harry Potter in secret and after Black, Alice was next in line with the right to raise the boy. His hand tightened again as he thought of the case against Black; the edges of the Deluminator pressed painfully into his hand. Was Black another casualty? Alastor pushed away the thought to continue his report; questionable morality or not, Albus was still the leader Alastor had chosen to follow. "Possibly permanently."

"Pity that we've lost another House to this war," Albus stated. Alastor could tell that phrase was rout, even through the mimicry of sorrow covering it. Albus expected all three Longbottoms to be dead, then. Alastor struck with vindictive pleasure.

"All three still live." Alastor didn't let Albus react more than his surprised expression. "The Lestranges took their time. It was enough for me to get there. Alice had enough time to hide their boy."

"You _said_ they were out of the fight permanently." Albus sounded petulant. Alastor would need to grin about that later. Alice had a way of making even the most level of people annoyed beyond all reason. It was a good trait to have as a Hufflepuff.

"There _are_ worse things than death, Albus," Alastor stated. "Tortured into catatonia would certainly qualify. The Cruciatus Curse is Bellatrix's specialty."

"Of course," Albus agreed again. "I shall endeavor to remember that."

"The Crouch boy was there as well," Alastor offered, knowing that Albus wanted Bagnold to stay in power for at least another term and Crouch Senior was the biggest threat to that. Albus grinned at that and shortly after made his excuses to leave. Alastor wished he hadn't found the Deluminator, that he had remained unaware of the lines Albus was willing to cross to get his way.

-= LP =-  
An Ending  
-= LP =-


	7. House-Elf Brochure

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

 **Warnings:** This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Please exercise understanding of personal boundaries before and during reading.

 **Author's Note (Generic Note for the** _ **Houses Competition**_ **):** All my works should be considered to be Not Epilogue Compliant and I treat everything that is not the HP books and the Hogwarts Library Collection as _apocrypha_ (supplementary to canon but still outside of it) and treat it as such (including ignoring it unless it suits me). I also make a policy of not ignoring abusive and distasteful actions/decisions of characters and not handwaving the effects of trauma experienced by characters. If you feel that a character isn't acting like their "canon self" chances are good that it's because of one of these two things and they are merely displaying a more realistic response than they did in canon.

 **Author's Note(s):** I feel a little sick for having written this. Very bad case of objectifying sentient beings ahead.

 **Challenge/Competition Block** :  
 **Stacked with:** Houses Competition (Term 3); MC4A (LL  & PP)  
 **House** : Hufflepuff  
 **Year:** 6th  
 **Category:** Additional (188-228 words)  
 **Prompt:** Related to a Magical Creature of some sort  
 **Representation:** Educational Material  
 **Bonus Challenge(s):** Creature Feature  
 **Word Count** : 219

-= LP =-  
House-Elf Brochure  
-= LP =-

Congratulations on your newly acquired house-elf!

You should consider yourself immensely lucky as house-elves are exceedingly expensive due to their rarity. Luckily, they are a solid investment as they are both loyal and hardy. An elfling bound as soon as it is ready to leave its dam can serve its family for many generations to come.

Once mature, a female elf in good health is capable of bearing elflings for most of her life. (Please note: ownership of a mature male elf does not increase the likelihood or the rate of gestations.) While owners are encouraged to give or sell away this progeny in order to prevent magical unrest due to not having enough work to settle one's elves, there are no regulations preventing a household from growing their house-elf population. If you have five or more elves, it is recommended that an enclosed space be designated as an elf-only area. For the health of your elves, this space should be as free from wizarding magic as possible within one's household wards. Otherwise, a pantry or closet space will be sufficient nesting space.

Do not be alarmed if your elf pilfers clothing which has been thrown away. This is normal nesting behavior and will not affect your ownership.

May you enjoy many years of servitude from your new elf!

-= LP =-  
End  
-= LP =-


	8. Through Feline Eyes (Teatime Talk)

**Author's Note:** Shared for a Secret Santa. It will be moved to the correct story when I reach this point. Also, as a reminder, the term _magum_ is similar to the Regency romance term _ton_ and refers to a group of magical nobles who were chosen by Magic to uphold certain ideals as well as protect all of Magic. The rest of the Latin terms should be explained in the chapter.

 **Challenge/Competition Block:**  
 **Stacked with:** Winter Bingo; FF; SoC; PP; LL; NC; SI(N); StL; ToS; BAON; FPC; Gryffindor MC 2 (Y); Ravenclaw MC 2 (Y); Truth (N); Long Haul (N); Slicing Life (N); Search for Comfort (N)  
 **Representations:** Personal Boundaries; Past Manipulations; Magic; Hogwarts; Harry Potter; Randomness; Asexuality/Bisexuality; Nobility; Longbottoms  & Potters; Luna Lovegood  
 **Bonus Challenges:** Infinity; Lovely Coconuts; Under the Bridge; Second Verse (Not a Lamp; Ladylike – Frankness; Nontraditional; Mouth of Babes; Found Family; Rediscovery; Tomorrow's Shade; Unwanted Advice; Unicorn; Zucchini Bread; Hot Apple; Mermaid; Sitting Hummingbird; Casper's House; Machismo – Indecisive)  
 **Space (Prompt):** 4B (Ritual/Tradition)  
 **Word Count:** 2542

-= LP =-  
Through Feline Eyes  
 _Teatime Talk  
_ -= LP =-

Luna fell to her knees with a grace that spoke of habit. Harry loved watching his friend move; it was always like watching a natural force embodied in a person. He knew beyond a doubt that her apparent fragility said nothing about the power she contained in her slight frame. His own sinking onto the floor on the opposite side of the table was nowhere near as graceful, his unexpected growth spurt over the summer had left him feeling gangly. With unhurried precision, Luna pinched little bunches of the ground herbs from the dark blue jar that held them. Each pinch was blessed with a kiss from her pale lips before being dropped into the teapot. The floral scent of the mixture bloomed into the room. It filled his head with a warmth that pulled him out of the dreary thoughts of the reality outside the door to this room.

"Luna—"

She gently shushed him. Harry obeyed. He didn't even know what he was going to say, anyway. Perhaps he would question how tea was going to solve the multitude of problems that were waiting for them—for him, really. Maybe in some other universe, he could have grown up without having to worry about the chess games played by old men with the lives of every magical being in the country. In that world, all Harry would have had to deal with is the homework assigned by his professors…not a kind-of-sort-of dead dark lord, not the corruption of not one government, but several which would refuse to recognize the basic humanity of a fellow human because of their background. He wouldn't have been privy to the intricate weaving that was the traditions of the Ancient and Noble Houses.

Luna cupped the decanter of water instead of reaching for her wand. As she filled it with her pale energy, the water sparkled as if sunlight was passing through it. _'No,'_ Harry corrected himself, _'like moonlight.'_ Underneath his skin, Harry felt his magic stirring. It twisted in the confines of his body, wanting something that he couldn't quite grasp in his mind. She met his eyes briefly as she began to carefully pour the now-steaming liquid into the waiting teapot. That fleeting contact settled energy into a focused attention.

"Harry," the blonde said as she settled a black and indigo cozy over the pot. Her fingers fretted the worn fabric. Luna took a deep breath before folding her hands into her lap. She raised her gaze once more to his face, squaring her jaw as if preparing for battle. "Harry, there is something that you need to know. I am not the best person to tell you, but I have listened to Alexander and Neville discussing something. I fear that they are laboring under an erroneous assumption about your knowledge of the topic. Has the Dowager Longbottom arranged for someone to broach the topic of sex with you?"

Harry felt his face heat under Luna's frank stare. He dropped his head, tucking his chin to his chest. Last summer, Daniel had pulled him aside for a vaguely threatening talk of _consequences_ should Harry do anything _disrespectful_ of Hermione. There was also the clinical explanation about how the parts work from primary school, the year before he left for Hogwarts. Outside of that, there was the rather bawdy talk in the dorm from the guys, mainly Ron and Dean. None of that seemed to Harry as appropriate for the girl across from him.

"N-no," he finally managed to stammer through his embarrassment. He heard her breathe again. It was so deep that it drew him away from vague shame that had bound him. When she did it again, he found himself following suit. Tension drained out of him as he breathed with the little witch. Finally, he dared to raise his view from his lap to her face. The last drop vaporized when he could see neither repugnance nor pity for his ignorance.

"It just is," Luna told him. "There's no shame in ignorance, or in the topic. It just is."

"It just that—it's not like that in the muggle world. The Dursleys…"

"The Dursleys are wrong on a lot of things."

"Yeah," Harry agreed dryly, "I've noticed that."

"They were wrong about you, too."

Harry shoved himself up from the floor at her comment. Luna watched him warily, but did not flinch at his sudden movement…not like he would have done. The maelstrom inside him demanded motion. So he took up pacing the length and breadth of the room as he attempted to think around the tangle of feelings in his chest. The sheer violence of his emotions hid them from him. It bothered him that Luna could read him so well. Was there nothing she could not see?

"I know that. I do. It's just…" He trailed off as the unfairness of it choked him. "They lied about so many things, Luna. Why can I not convince myself that they were wrong about me? It's my greatest fear, you know. Yeah, yeah, the boggart became a dementor, but that's probably because the bloody things show too many things for the boggart to choose just _one_."

"You're not a freak, Harry."

"Aren't I?" Harry questioned in return, not caring how she knew _that word_. He ran his hands through his hair, making it stick out at even wilder angles. "All of it—everyone is watching me, Luna, like I'm some kind of deific figure. I'm _the_ Potter of Peverell. I'm _the_ Boy-Who-Lived, Vanquisher of the Dark Lord Voldemort. I speak _parseltongue_ and I can see magic. How am I _not_ a freak?"

"Am I?"

"What?—No! Never you!"

"Then why are you?"

"I…" Harry collapsed back onto his pillow at Luna's simple rebuttal. His eyes prickled with tears that he couldn't shed. He stared at her. He licked his lips, trying to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. He forced his gaze away from hers. She saw too much sometimes. It filled him with an uncomfortable feeling of exposure. "Even _Harry_ seems to be a persona, Luna. I just want someone to see _me_."

"I See you," Luna whispered.

Harry looked at her again. Gooseflesh pimpled his skin as a shiver ran through him. The aura that exuded from the pale witch embraced him in a way that very few did physically. It cradled him as he realized that she was right. She was most likely the only one who truly saw him, not some image of him that they had built up in their minds. That knowledge had always been there, lurking in the corners of his mind. He had tried to deny its sting, but now he couldn't.

"Have you noticed the girls who have started following you?"

Harry blinked at the non sequitur before realizing that Luna had jumped back in the conversation. He thought back over the last several weeks. There had been several girls that had been following him. Lavender and Pavarti had taken to sitting behind him in Defense. Their giggling often distracted him from the lesson. Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis were doing the same in Potions, minus the giggling as Snape probably wouldn't stand for it. During Herbology last week, Hannah Abbott had painstakingly explained how her family could be considered prestigious despite the fact that her mother was a muggleborn. Her eyes had shown with unspoken hope when Harry had said that he didn't care about blood purity.

"Er, yeah, I have," Harry answered. "I take it that you know why they're acting barmy?"

"You have formally acknowledged your lineage."

"Yeah, so?"

"They are trying to get you to court them."

"But I'm thirteen! I'm not thinking about _marriage_."

"Most of the _magum_ have been betrothed since before they got their Hogwarts letter, or are a part of a _spepondi_. Your father died before making arrangements for you, and the clouds around your guardianship has also prevented the Dowager Longbottom from doing so. You are magically and politically powerful, reasonably intelligent, and dashingly good looking. Congratulations, Harry, you are the most eligible bachelor in Britain, if not the world."

"But I'm _thirteen_. I am not even thinking about getting a girlfriend."

Luna looked down at her hands and flinched. The small gesture reminded Harry of Vivian's insulted tones when Malfoy asked if she wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him. It suddenly occurred to the clueless boy that Luna was most likely also a member of the _magum_ , despite the fact that her father ran a magazine for a living. She shared the same ethereal grace that Vivian had though without the confidence which was engraved in the Slytherin's every move. He didn't often think of that concerning Luna. She was a glittering star compared to the earthy practicality of Vivian. It was hard to think of her chaotic mind being confined by the same social niceties that Madam Longbottom and Harriet tried to drill into him during their teas last summer.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "It's just…why would they want to follow me around? Wouldn't they have to go through Madam Longbottom?"

"They are probably hoping to poach you."

"I'm sorry, but did you say 'poach'?"

"Yes," Luna answered simply. She raised her eyes again to his. Her cheeks had a faint blush to them. "If one of them can get you to fornicate with them, then you could be forced to marry them, if your magic is compatible with theirs. The act could form a _foederis_ with them. Of course, that would make a proper marriage next to impossible."

"Whoa, wait a second—new term. What's a folders?"

"A _foederis_ is a magical bond which links the lifeforce of two magical people; it is necessary to feed magic into a woman's womb for the creation of magical offspring. When a wizard and a witch fornicate and are compatible magically, the bond forms. It can be broken, but doing so makes it difficult to create another one…which can compromise a wizard or witch's ability to produce magical children. That's why you might be forced to marry one of these witches who are following you around and giggling."

"So that lecture that Madam Pomfrey gave about not having 'relations' with Hermione was _not_ just hogwash?"

"No, it wasn't," Luna confirmed.

"But Ron—"

"There is a reason that the Weasleys are called 'blood traitors', Harry," Luna said after a moment's hesitation. "They do not follow many of the Olde Ways, despite their blood purity status. Ronald would not be a good example of acceptable behavior."

"Seamus is almost as bad."

"He's also an O'Flaherty. The chance of him finding a witch here with a quick enough bloodsong is very slim." At Harry's confused look, she continued. "The O'Flaherty family has fey blood. It is more than a few generations ago, but those things tend to carry down a bloodline. He can afford to be loose with his sexual choices. _He_ has nothing to lose. You do."

"I'm thirteen," Harry protested again. It sounded weak even to him. He hadn't begun to notice girls in that way yet, but Ron, Dean, and Seamus certainly had. Even Neville got a little tongue-tied around pretty girls, but maybe that was due to something else because he also got tongue-tied around Harry himself. Harry had caught Alex looking at Vivian with a certain appreciation in his eyes. That was not even counting what goes on in the Gryffindor locker room after practices.

Luna waited out his dilemma. Her silver eyes watched him as he sorted through the snapshots of his female teammates and the Giggle Squad that had taken to following him about the school. Then his thoughts turned towards the soft features of his Ravenclaw friend. A feeling of warmth twisted in his stomach. Wouldn't it be nice if Luna looked at him the way that Angelina looked at Fred?

A plan began to form in his mind. It would be a simple solution and would solve so many problems. But would she go for it?

"Hey, Luna," he started before he could lose the spat of confidence that had taken hold of him. "These girls follow me because I'm available, right? What would happen if I wasn't?"

"Well, if you were betrothed or in a _spepondi_ , then most of the girls would probably stop bothering you. There might be a few that held out hope of drawing your attention, but most would leave you alone." The blonde hesitated as she served the tea. Through her eyelashes, she observed her companion. His energy was moving quickly in the pattern it does when he was deep in thought. "Of course, should you seek to establish a _spepondi_ of your own, you may just cause the crowd to grow."

"But I would have more control over who was pursuing me," Harry countered without any surprise at her assessment of the direction in which his thoughts were going. He took the cup that Luna held out to him. Warmth spread out from his throat as he swallowed his mouthful of the brew. Of all the different teas that he had forced upon him since the end of his second year, he was coming to appreciate the delicate nature of Luna's personal blend. It always soothed him almost as well as a long flight. At the same time, it energized him, making him ready to face the world again.

"Yes, but your assertions of not thinking about marriage would have to cease," Luna stated, watching him over the rim of her own cup. "A _spepondi_ is an agreement to give the group a preferential assessment prior to seeking outside unions. A spot in yours would be most coveted. The prestige of being a part of it might drive some to desperate measures. Blood feuds have ended because of inclusions in a mutual _spepondi_."

"I shouldn't have to think like this! I'm only thirteen," Harry groaned. He leaned back on his couch and gave into his urge to hunch himself over his tea. It was an old habit left over from the Dursleys, as it made him smaller and therefore less of a target. It also earned him a mild stinging hex every time Madam Longbottom caught him in the posture as it was unbecoming of a young man of his station. He startled when he heard the quiet clink of Luna's cup returning to its saucer.

With a grace he had thought impossible even for her, Luna crawled around the low table to him. She laid down with her head in his lap, her face turned towards his and her hair spread over his knees. She gazed up at him with her dove-gray eyes, speaking of her understanding without words. Under her gaze, he was exposed all over again. His breath hitched. His eyes prickled traitorously. She just quietly watched.

It wasn't fair. Everyone expected something from him. He had to be Hermione's owner; he had to be the Potter Heir; he had to be the heroic Boy-Who-Lived; he had to be the Seeker. Everyone wanted him to be something…everyone except the girl before him. As if she had heard his thought, she spoke a simple truth.

"I See you."

-= LP =-  
An Ending  
-= LP =-


End file.
